


Beholder

by Shinigamibutter



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Cute, Fluff, Gift Fic, Junk, M/M, One Shot, Prompt Fic, speed writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 18:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18393980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinigamibutter/pseuds/Shinigamibutter
Summary: One painter, one photographer, and one ideal of beauty. A snapshot love.





	Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I saw this on Twitter, an AU idea by @moonbinsprouts and asked them if it's cool I write it. They said yes and here we are. Just some cute fluff that isn't complicated. Whoo! 
> 
> I need these fpr in between all the angst I'm writing in Single...

The view was perfect. Well, almost perfect there were a few other people around and they weren’t exactly what he wanted to see but Myungjun wasn’t going to complain too much. At least he could paint around them. He doubted the photographer he saw a few feet away was going to have the same luck he was. Though thinking that hadn’t stopped him from adding the photographer. 

He couldn’t help it, really he enhanced the painting with his presence and pull. His body a balance to the scenery of lush greenery and the midday sun. The bright colors he was wearing also fit the snippets of flowers and buildings. There was just something about him that stood out, in a good way. Myungjun mused it might have been the high powered camera with a lense attached that was at least five inches long. Why didn’t matter, not really. The photographer would never know he was in that painting to begin with. 

Sighing to himself Myungjun tried not to dwell on his last thought. It wasn’t exactly his fault that he wasn’t well known, he was doing everything he could to become known. But art, like any profession really was no cake walk to get into. It was hard work, exposure, and putting yourself out there. Which he would be doing soon at a small local exhibit, of course he’d also be paying to have his work shown. If even one piece was sold it was worth it. Last time he’d taken part he’d sold two pieces. This time he was hoping to sell three. 

Looking up from his work, his thoughts drifting away from the photographer, money, and the price of art he smiled at the scenery. It truly was lovely. Everything about this park was lovely. That was why he came so often, why many people came so often. It was often packed like it was today when the weather was nice. Which really meant more work in seeing the forest for all of the trees, but it was worth it. Absently he stroked his paint brush over the canvas enjoying the feeling of the air around him rather than the rigid movements of the motion. 

It was only here he could let go and just paint the sky. With its brilliant blues and prefect skyline of clouds over the river. Far enough away it couldn’t be heard, just seen from on top of the hill overlooking it. There weren’t many places like this one that weren’t surrounded by too many buildings and too many street hawkers. In a way the place was his corner of the world tucked away. Very few artists found themselves out here, at least painters that was. 

Sighing Myungjun looked back at his painting then back to the sun, he’d done all he could for the moment. The painting hadn’t been anything too laborious, the outlines were done and the filling in started. Everything else could be finished at home, would be finished at home he told himself as he was out of free time. The exhibit was only a few days away after all and he knew better than to try and paint too late into the night. He’d learned the hard way that some bugs were entirely too drawn to the smell of paint. 

Without thinking he packed up and found himself turning to the photographer. They looked to be packing up too. He wondered if they’d caught the perfect photograph today. He’d seen them here a few times, each time he’d stayed almost as long as Myungjun himself. Today they were leaving at the same time and Myungjun fought back the urge to greet him. They didn’t know each other, but he knew his face. And if the photographer had been paying any attention he should know his. 

At least Myungjun was certain he should with how attractive he found himself to be. Despite his height problem he knew himself to be a great catch with a dazzling smile, honey voice, artistic talent, and the looks of an angel. Not that he felt the photographer, who was definitely shorter than him, could complain about Myungjun’s height. The rest, well he had to admit it could be possible they were competition. After all the photographer was gorgeous, with a breathtaking smile all his own. 

Those were not thoughts he wanted to visit though. It wasn’t like he knew anything about the man after all, other than he looked amazing and old enough. Which was not much in the least. Just because he liked the same place to take photographs as Myungjun liked to paint didn’t mean anything. Yet, he still found it hard to deny that he felt like it meant everything. He had the feeling that their ideal of beauty was the same. Despite the lack of evidence. Vaguely he wondered if maybe they would meet one day, professionally. 

* ~ * ~ *

The day of the exhibit Myungjun could feel his jaw hit the floor. Figuratively. At least he hoped so because he didn’t need the whole world gapping at him instead of his art. But they might because he knew he was two seconds from starting a scene. However he felt that was completely justified. After all how else was he supposed to react to seeing the photographer he’d only been thinking about entirely too much in his free time in the flesh. Right next to his section, and displaying photographs of his spot. 

Quite literally of him. Though he couldn’t make out his face, in the same way he’d left the photographer’s face ambiguous so had the photographer left his. But he knew himself when he saw himself. It made his palms sweat to think of going over there too as his own works were already out, the one with the photographer in front and center right outside his little section. Right beside the photograph of himself that the photographer was putting up. 

Honestly it made his cheeks flush and his heart race. The angles, the care, the way he was captured, everything really gave a feeling of something more. The same feeling of something more that he’d unintentionally painted into his own work. A feeling he hadn’t dared to put a name to, not that it had stopped anyone else that had seen the work. An L-word floating from their lips that he wanted to deny but found himself unable to do so. He wanted to deny it because it was impossible, yet staring at each photograph as they were revealed he knew he couldn’t. 

Instead his mind was filled with understanding. An old saying ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ floated to mind as he stared, just out of sight. He knew it was true, but there was another side to that that he’d been taught by his painting teacher. That it was rare to find someone with the same idea of beauty as your own. To find someone that would wade through the darkest waters to find that pearl of beauty with you. He hadn’t understood that, he did now. Seeing how all of his paintings mirrored the photographer’s photos. 

In a way he supposed that was why they were set up next to each other. When the last one was revealed he found his courage. It was still weak, like a butterfly fluttering in his hand, but even monarchs flew thousands of miles every year the least he could do was express himself. Quietly he approached the photographer who was gazing at his painting and the photo side by side. A look was on his face, an understanding. He swallowed his heart as it tried to escape when stepped beside him doing the same. 

“You have an eye for beauty.” Myungjun stated, but it was more than that. His tone said everything while he kept his body language open. If they truly were looking at the world the same he hoped that this photographer would understand what he meant. What he was trying to do. To help his case along he had at least looked him up and down in the way of appraising something beautiful, but still being tasteful. At least he hoped so.

The photographer turned to look at him, truly looking at him in a way that they’d never done in the park. It made Myungjun’s breath catch and he could feel the tension in the air as their eyes met. A pink tongue darted out distracting him down to kissable lips and he knew his face was red when he pulled his eyes back up to the photographer’s. Caught. “I think you do too.” Was the answer, a soft whisper and unmistaken interest. “I’m Park Jinwoo.” 

“Kim Myungjun,” He took the offered hand and it took more effort than it should have to let it go. He did, but he found that their eyes were still locked and his courage was thriving. “Would you like to get coffee after this?” He could feel his ears going red but it didn’t matter, what mattered was that Jinwoo nodded yes and together they turned back to the painting and photograph. No more words were needed, their art had said it all. 

Well, Myungjun knew that their art hadn’t said it ‘all’. But he certainly did after the exhibit and what he couldn’t say their bodies did under the moonlight. At their park, in his spot, when their lips met and their hands locked.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts welcomed! Please comment 😃


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